


A Sea of Sorrows

by DreamingOfVenus



Category: BioShock 1 & 2 (Video Games)
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fantasy, Horror, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:08:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23159806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamingOfVenus/pseuds/DreamingOfVenus
Summary: Ever since Catherine Gorland's mother died, her father, Frank Gorland (later Fontaine), has been acting out in ways that worry Catherine and push her away from him even more. When Frank receives an opportunity for Catherine and him to flee from their life of squalor in New York, he takes it. Insisting that he has a plan, he soothes Catherine into coming with him to Rapture quietly. What started as a steal of a deal slowly turns to Hell as Catherine learns new things out about her father and the people around her—leaving her to wish for her days in New York to return. Watch the world of Rapture crumble apart through the eyes of a young girl and her diary entries.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	1. Entry 1: Drunk Again

**Date** : September 20, 1948

Dear Diary,

Dad came home last night, drunk as a skunk. That seems to be the only condition I see him in nowadays. He's either dragging himself through the hallway, making empty promises about taking me to the show once he saves up enough money, or he's raving on about how he's so close to getting us a ticket out of this worn-down apartment.

Yeah, like that's going to happen.

Dad hasn't been making a lot of money ever since mom passed. Bartending is good for a starter job, but not a job that allows dad to bring in a consistent amount of cash. If I thought dad was smart enough to keep up a constant lie, I would assume he wasn't working a job at all. I haven't seen evidence of any sort of cash flow, and neither has the landlord. If it's not dad trudging through the hallways, it's Dean the landlord banging on the door telling us how much we owe him. It's a real nuisance, that's all I can say. Funny thing is, dad never seems to be around when Dean comes asking for the money. If I didn't know better, I would suspect Dad had some kind of Dean radar to alert him whenever he was around. No matter. 

I just wish dad made more time for me.

The only company I keep beside the short, but frequent, visits from Dean, is our Russian Blue, Naomi. She's sitting at my feet as I write this. She's mewling for my attention, but I cannot give her any attention until I'm done writing. If I let her distract me for even a second, I'll—

Whoops! Looks like I let her distract me already. Ugh. I wish I had friends to distract me instead of a cat.

Dad won't let me invite friends over, even if I wanted to. He has forbidden me from going to school, stating that he'll hire me a tutor as soon as he gets more money. Once again, I would like to know where he plans to get the money for this expense. Until he hires me a tutor, he told me that a stack of twenty-year-old dictionaries will do me a great deal of good. I went to school and had excellent grades up until mother died—when everything fell apart. Now I'm forced to stay in the house. Dad said he doesn't want me to get hurt like mom did, which is why he wants me to stay indoors. 

What dad doesn't know, though, is that I make occasional trips to the library during the day while he is away. I don't think I could survive without it. I don't know how he expects me to stay cooped up in this dingy apartment, reading the definitions of the same words over and over again. 

Oh! I think I heard the door open. I wonder what excuse dad will have for getting home late tonight. 


	2. Entry 2: A Change In Behavior

**Date** : September 21, 1948

Dear Diary,

Dad came home last night—sober! And he actually greeted me when he came in through the door. He didn't sneak through the entrance to the apartment and trudge his way to his room. He didn't hide when he heard me come running down the hall to greet him. No, he didn't do any of that. 

He came home vibrant last night, slamming open the front door to announce his presence. Nearly scared Naomi to death, but his entrance seemed to breathe life into me and the rest of this tomb-like house. His entrance made me believe that our situation could change—a glimmer of light in this dark and dusty old abode. 

After entering the apartment in a lively fashion, he had sauntered into the kitchen, where I was finishing up last night's entry. He eagerly sat across from me, a look of pure elation in his bloodshot eyes (side note: studying the dictionary yesterday did me a bit of good, I guess. I finally found a use for the term elation! If I told dad, he would be proud). He took my small hands into his much larger and dirtier ones, giving them a friendly squeeze (side note again: I had to wash my hands furiously afterward—what had he been doing?!). He went on to tell me that he had been working on a project for quite some time now, and it was finally coming to fruition (side note: again, another word!). He said he would be traveling to Staten Island to meet with a man who might be able to get us out of this terrible apartment. Deep down, I know it's unlikely, but his sudden change in attitude really has me excited. 

A girl can hope, right?

Anyways, that was last night. This morning, however, I awoke to another surprise. 

Dad actually made breakfast!

I woke up to the smell of eggs and bacon, a smell I hadn't been exposed to since before mom died. She used to make eggs and bacon twice a month. Some of the best food I've ever tasted. She was going to school to become a cook before she married dad and got pregnant with me. I always used to feel so awful when she told me that, but she always made sure to assure me that "my laugh as a baby always reminded her that the sacrifice she made was thoroughly worth it."  


Anyways, I digress. 

Waking up and smelling the delicious food combined with the excellent attitude dad presented the night before put me in the best of moods. I felt as if I actually had a purpose to get out of bed and comb my unruly red hair—as if I had a purpose of going downstairs in my best dress. Naomi quickly followed me as I went down the creaky stairs, obviously just as enticed by the food dad was cooking as I was.   


Arriving at the dining room table, I sat down to a delicious breakfast with my father—something I was not used to. He said he went to the market before I woke up, wanting to "surprise me with a well-deserved breakfast." Not only was I surprised by my dad's cooking, but I was also stunned to see my dad dressed up in his best vest and trousers. That's the moment I realized the man he said he wanted to meet was no ordinary person, and that dad's promise of the man being able to help us out might actually be legitimate. This realization made the meal even more delicious. The only thing that could've sullied this fantastic moment between my father and me was if my father informed me that he would be leaving for Staten Island today. 

Unfortunately, he did.   


Just a mere hour after breakfast, father came in to tell me that one of his friends would be watching me while he went to Staten Island later today. I cannot thoroughly express the depth of the pit that formed in my stomach. The wave of sadness that washed over me was not from having to be watched by a stranger (who has turned out to be quite nice so far), but because dad was leaving me again when I actually wanted to be around him for a change. On top of him leaving me so soon, he told me that he didn't know when he'd be back.

I thought, _who does this to their daughter? Who leaves their daughter alone for an unknown amount of time with someone she doesn't know?_

But then I realized that it was absurd for me to question this. After all, this is the man who took me out of school and forces me to stay at home alone with nothing except a cat, a record player, a few pieces of paper and crayons, a few dusty dictionaries, and a journal. The only time I escape this place is when I sneak out to visit the library, something dad would be furious about if he were to find out. Why should I even question his mindset? This all started when I was twelve years old. I'm fourteen years old, and he's still treating me like this. 

Fast forward to the present, and here I am, once again at the dining room table with the man who father said would look after me. Dad left for Staten Island about thirty minutes ago.

His name is Reggie. Shockingly, he resembles dad a bit. He's tall and has piercing brown eyes. One of the only things that separates Reggie from dad is that Reggie has wavy blonde hair, whereas my dad is bald. It's funny that people who are not related can look so alike. 

Anyways, that's all for now. Hopefully, dad will be back soon with some good news!


	3. Entry 3: A Fishery?

**Date** : October 1, 1948

Dear Diary,

I haven't made any entries this past week because I've had so much to think about that, well...I don't know how to put my thoughts down in words properly. I figure that enough days have gone past without an entry, so now would be the time for me to try my best to explain what's happened in-between entries.

So, the trip my dad went on to meet the man who he said 'might be able to get us out of this terrible apartment'? Well, apparently he found a way to help us out, just not in a way I expected. I thought dad meant that the man he was meeting could give him a high paying job, which would eventually lead us out of this cruddy place. Nope!

The man passed on his ownership of a fishery to my father.

...

If anyone were to ever find this journal and read that line, they might find it funny. However, when my dad made the initial announcement, I was pretty upset. I mean, fishery? And tons of money? I don't see those two things going together, and I was convinced my dad was pulling my leg. However, when he explained just who the fishery was working with...well, let's just say I became a bit more understanding.

Andrew.

Ryan.

The guy who gave the fishery to my father was working with Andrew Ryan.

The last time I heard the name Andrew Ryan was before mom died—when I was still in school. The girls in my class talked about how he was some rich guy who was trying to build a city underwater, where only the most independent and smart people could live. I always thought it was a bit silly when I was younger—I mean, why live underwater when life on land is perfectly suitable? However, the death of my mother has warped my mindset quite a bit, and, well, I can see the appeal. Now that I know my dad is talking to Andrew Ryan, though, maybe...

NO! I cannot get excited. Whenever I get super excited about something, it always falls apart. My dad owns a popular fishery, but he's not a bestselling author or artist. Ha, just the idea of him becoming either of those things makes giggle.   


Anyways, guess how long it took me to find out that my father had inherited a fishery?

Three. Days. My dad left me along with Reggie for three days. 

Like I said in my last entry, Reggie is a nice guy—he drew pictures with me, he helped me study some definitions, and he even played with Naomi with me. But still, THREE DAYS WITH A STRANGER. God, if my mom could only see dad now. She would go on one of her little rants—

"Frank—you left our fourteen-year-old daughter alone with a strange man while you went to Staten Island to inherit a fish-business? What were you thinking? You ~~small little man~~ , ~~idiot,~~ silly goose!"

Ugh, I don't even know what she would say about that. It's been so long. 

However, I do know what she would say about the last thing my father informed me about when he arrived home;

We have to change our last name. 

When I inquired (another dictionary word!) why we had to change our surname, my father simply stated that since we were moving up in the world, our last name should sound a bit more proper. I would hardly call owning a fishery "moving up in the world," but I guess when Andrew Ryan is involved, everything becomes a bit more glamorous. I don't think my father would consider it fancy without Ryan involved, either. 

So, as you can see, I was hit with a double whammy; my dad owns a fishery, and now I have to change my surname. At least the surname isn't directly fish-related, or else I would refuse.

Fontaine. My new name is going to be, Catherine Elizabeth Fontaine. 

Huh. Well, now that I say it aloud and see it down on paper, it certainly sounds better than Catherine Elizabeth Gorland. 

However, I still question my dad's choice of surname. If he just wanted to make our surname a bit more "fancy," wouldn't he just slightly alter our current last name? I don't know, something about it is all a bit off to me. Nonetheless, I'm just excited that my dad, Naomi, and I have a shot at getting in a better home. 

Maybe I'll even be able to go back to school!


	4. Entry 4: We're Going to Rapture!

**Date** : October 22, 1948

Dear Diary,

My lack of entries this time wasn't from me not knowing what to say but as a punishment. My dad took away my journal for three weeks because he read some of my entries and saw that I was sneaking off to the library, even though he told me not to leave the house when he was gone. I admittedly have a few choice words on the matter, but I feel like I will get in trouble if my dad rereads my journal. Therefore, I will refrain. However, I need to forget about that issue, because I have even bigger news to share!

WE.ARE.MOVING.TO.ANDREW.RYAN'S.CITY.

And not in a few months or a few years—a few days! My birthday is in December, so this is kinda like an early birthday gift!

I never thought it was possible. All my raving about hoping to move down to the underwater city was just that, the fanciful raving of a daydreaming fourteen-year-old. I can't believe this is actually happening! If I hadn't heard Reggie talking about it with my dad, I would assume that my dad was lying to me just to get back at me for sneaking behind his back. But no! This is really happening. I am both nervous and excited at the same time. My dad has told me a few things about the city, such as its name, how he got us a ticket down there, and the various activities a girl like me can do there.

The name of the city is Rapture and, just like my classmates whispered about all those years ago, only the smartest people get invited to live in Rapture, ~~which makes me wonder how my dad got us invited down there~~. Just kidding! Anyways, dad got us down there by sending letters to Mr. Ryan for the past few weeks, inquiring about the possibility of being able to set up another hub for his fishery (which is going swimmingly). According to dad, Mr. Ryan was so pleased to see how much enthusiasm dad had about Rapture, and invited us to live down there so dad can look after the business himself! My dad says that, while he works at the fishery during the day, I can get outside of the apartment we'll be staying in and explore the city. Some of the areas are still in development, but eventually, Rapture will have its own underwater gardens, a stage for plays and opera, museums, and even school! I never thought I'd be so excited to go back to school, but staying in this apartment every day for two years has convinced me about the wonders of education.

Although I am excited to leave this nasty place and go to a more refreshing location, I'm sorry to say that Naomi cannot join us on our expedition to Rapture. I cried about it for a while after dad told me, but he convinced me that we could give Naomi to Ms. Buschemi upstairs, whose older cat, Yancy, had died a few weeks ago. I know how much she loves cats, so I'm sure little Miss Naomi will be in safe hands. I really wish I didn't have to leave her behind.

Now that I think about it, why does something go wrong every time something great happens? I finally hear the words I've been waiting to hear for years—"we're moving"—and then they're followed by the news that I have to give up the closest friend I've had since mom died. It kind of reminds me of how mom found out she was pregnant, and then she died during labor. 

...

A part of me wants to erase my previous sentence, but dad always tells me that the past cannot be erased, so I think I'll leave it. Yeah, it's painful to write down and remember, but it happened, and there's nothing we can do to change it. 

Unless Andrew Ryan makes a time machine. He can build an underwater city, why not a time machine? I know in the back of my mind that those two things are entirely different, and just because one is possible doesn't mean the other one is, but whatever! I hoped to move to Rapture in my last entry, so maybe hoping for a time machine in this entry might result in something awesome?  


Speaking of awesome, I might be bummed that Naomi isn't coming with us to Rapture, but Reggie, Reggie's son, and a guy named Peach Wilkins are! Now, I can't be too excited about Mr. Peach coming with us, since I've never met him before, but I am excited to hear that Reggie's coming with us! I haven't met Reggie's son, either, but if he's anything like his dad, I'll love him! Reggie tells me that his son, Nathaniel, is around my age and that his mother died too. Although I was sad to hear that another kid my age knew the pain of losing a parent, I was glad to hear that he and I had something else in common besides a similar age. Reggie says that we'll all be going down to Rapture together, so I'll get to meet Nathaniel in a few days. Maybe he'll be my friend? I know I can use one!

Anyways, dad is yelling for me to go and pack some more of my things up, so I suppose I can put this diary away until I arrive in Rapture. 

Goodbye, diary! See you on the other side!

P.S. —I need to remember to rewrite my name on the cover. I'm Catherine Elizabeth ~~Gorland~~ Fontaine, not Catherine Elizabeth Gorland.   



End file.
